


Epiphany

by genevievedarcygranger



Series: Hotch x Garcia [5]
Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Injured Aaron Hotchner, Mutual Pining, Mutually Unrequited, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Past Violence, Power Imbalance, Requited Unrequited Love, River Song Ficathon, Song Lyrics, Song: epiphany (Taylor Swift), Temporarily Unrequited Love, Whump, Workplace Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:29:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27660704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/genevievedarcygranger/pseuds/genevievedarcygranger
Summary: After Hotch is injured, he is forced to stay behind with Garcia for the next case. The quality time together opens Garcia’s eyes.
Relationships: Penelope Garcia/Aaron Hotchner
Series: Hotch x Garcia [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1862245
Comments: 6
Kudos: 53





	Epiphany

_“Only twenty minutes to sleep_

_But you dream of some epiphany_

_Just one single glimpse of relief_

_To make some sense of what you've seen.”_

\- “epiphany,” _Taylor Swift_

* * *

When Garcia called the team to the conference room for a case, she wasn’t expecting to see Hotch also there. On the last case, he’d gotten severely injured, tackling the unsub down a staircase and managing to break his right arm and his collarbone for the trouble. The unsub broke his neck, though, so it could have been worse.

Morgan had called to tell her about it, and Garcia had been furious once she got over her initial fear. She had made a point of waiting out in the airfield with the cars when the jet had landed so she could chew Hotch’s ear off the entire ride back to the office. Even then, she didn’t let him go inside and gathered all the paperwork he needed to send him home. Hotch tolerated it all in a daze of heavy painkillers, silent and pliant to her whim, for once not insisting he stay and work late. She could’ve gotten used to him like that, his expression unguarded and eyes soft when he gazed at her. Garcia thought that for all the trouble, he’d take more than just a week off, yet here he sat at the round table, his suit jacket hanging on his shoulders like a cape and his dress shirt rolled up over the cast on his wrist.

“Wheels up in thirty,” Hotch recited just like every other time, but when he stood, he faltered. While she was no profiler, Garcia suspected that the sudden movement jostled him too much since he couldn’t hide his wince.

“Not for you, sir,” Garcia told him sternly. She steadily ignored the looks Emily and JJ were sharing over her head as if she weren’t there. “There’s no way you’re cleared for the field like that.”

No longer under a fog of narcotics like before, Hotch tried to stand firm while the others gathered their gear and headed out. “An agent doesn’t have to fire a gun to go out on a case.” Even as he said it, Reid made a face behind his back and shot an apologetic look to Garcia.

Surprisingly, it was Emily who had to step in and reason with Hotch. “You do have a point, but if it was any of us, we’d be grounded. So, I’ll tell you what I told Reid when his knee was injured – naughty boy,” she smirked and then softened the smirk when she turned it on Garcia. “Garcia, you should tell him the same thing you told Reid. Do you remember?”

"No, what did I say?”

Lingering by the door, Reid piped up helpfully, “You said, ‘Your ass is mine.’” His eyes flickered to Hotch and he shrugged his shoulders. “It’s not so bad staying with Garcia. Her office is very stimulating, and it offered an interesting change in perspective when it came to developing a profile. And she keeps candy in there.”

“Reid, that was a secret!” Garcia swatted at his arm with her stack of files. Figuring the conservation was over, she stepped around him to leave. “See you in my office, sir.”

To her satisfaction, she heard Hotch sigh and then murmur, “You’re in charge in the field while I’m here, Morgan.”

Garcia smiled.

* * *

Under any other circumstances, Garcia wasn’t a fan of sharing her space. When she shared it with Gideon, he had no respect for any of her equipment or her. She was basically an object, like a walking, talking fancy calculator. Even Elle had a habit of leaving her coffee cups in precarious positions when she visited. JJ never stayed long enough, but she never knocked when she entered and always complained it was too cold. To be fair, the temperature wasn’t Garcia’s choice; her computers needed it to be cool to prevent overheating considering how rarely she turned them off when the team was on a case. Kevin felt like an invader, and when his attention wasn’t on Garcia, it was on trying to figure out her programing. She didn’t question why it never worked out with him. With Reid, it was fine except how he tried to overtake her on what was her job. So, Garcia had very low expectations for how Hotch, her intimidating boss, would do in her cramped space.

When he finally made his way to her office, he knocked on the door and waited for Garcia to let him in. Already, he was leaps and bounds ahead of JJ and Gideon. Garcia opened the door for him with a small flourish. “Welcome to the Bat Cave. This is where the magic happens.” He followed her inside and shut the door, but more or less lingered close to the door as she sat down on her throne. She twisted around to look at him. “Come on in. I have a special seat for you right here.” She tapped the spare chair she would use to prop her feet up for a cat nap.

Slowly, Hotch walked forward and sat down, setting the files for the case down in his lap. He gingerly removed his suit jacket with one hand and laid it over the back of his chair. “Garcia,” he started softly, “I know that this is your space, and I will respect your boundaries and equipment while I’m here.”

Garcia blinked at him. “Sir, as long as you don’t eat smelly Chinese takeout or talk over me on the video-calls, you’ll be fine. You’re still my boss.”

Hotch looked a little stricken at that, and Garcia wondered if he was avoiding taking his pain medication. “Right. Well. Let’s call the team.”

She hesitated to pull up the video call, taking a moment to study his severe expression as he dropped his gaze down the files again. Before he could look back up and catch her watching, though, she did just that. He was acting funny; she’d just have to wait for a moment to call Emily or Morgan to ask for their profiling skills.

* * *

As far as the others went, Hotch was definitely the most unobtrusive guest. Even when he watched Morgan delegate tasks to the team over the video, he never let his face show an ounce of displeasure. Whenever Garcia shared what she found with the team, Hotch sat by and made annotations to the notes he was making for the profile. He didn’t eat anything until Garcia said it was time for lunch, and when he did eat, he sat away from her computers with his sandwich and coffee. At her questioning look, Hotch explained, “I didn’t want to spill anything on your computers. I know you don’t like a mess.”

“You’re just eating a sandwich, sir.” Garcia held up her own lunch, a chocolate chip bagel smothered in creamy peanut butter. “It’s no messier than this. You can come back over here. I don’t bite – not with my mouth already full,” she teased, hoping to lessen the tension. Hotch was her boss, and even when he called her on a case, he never took the bait with her playful flirting like Morgan. But this time, Hotch did pull his chair forward beside hers again, using his feet to scoot his rolling chair.

They ate in companionable silence that was only broken when Garcia asked, “So how’s Jackers? Second grade treating him well?”

Hotch smiled, and Garcia felt her chest get tight at the rare sight. “He’s happy. He has so many friends, and he sees his therapist less and less now.” His smile dimmed. “I don’t know if he’ll ever stop seeing a therapist, but he doesn’t have nightmares as frequently anymore.”

“That’s a good sign,” Garcia nodded. She rubbed at the lower part of her sternum, over where her bullet wound was. “I know it really helped me to see a therapist after Battle. But y’know, there’s nothing wrong with getting therapy. Everyone does it at some point in their life. It’s healthy.” She shoved the rest of the bagel in her mouth to keep herself from saying anything silly; she just wanted to reassure Hotch that he was a good dad. Foyet was not his fault.

“I know.” She thought Hotch would drop his eyes back to the rest of his sandwich, but instead he stared at her with his eyes narrowed.

“What?” Garcia asked, patting her hair down self-consciously. The motion made her bracelets tinkle like bells. 

Even though he was the one staring at her, Hotch startled at her question and looked away. “It’s nothing. You just have a bit of peanut butter on your chin.”

“Oh!” Garcia dabbed at her chin with her fingers, and sure enough when she pulled them away to inspect them, there was peanut butter smeared there. Blushing furiously, she turned away from Hotch to wipe it away and only turned back when she was sure it was gone off her chin. Licking the peanut butter off of her fingers, she turned back to him. “Is it gone? How do I look?”

When Hotch fixed his gaze back on her, Garcia felt that same tightness in her chest as before, and dropped her hand back to her sternum. It had been years since she felt any phantom pains from Battle. But this felt…different. “You look just like you always do, Garcia,” Hotch told her after his brief inspection of her face.

“Thanks,” Garcia chirped, trying to infuse as much confidence in her voice as she normally had, but she still felt disappointed that she couldn’t read into his neutral tone.

* * *

The team was in Oregon, and Garcia felt the time difference as keenly as she always did. But she could tell it was really affecting Hotch. She had only seen him take his medication once today, at lunch, and it was just a Tylenol. Garcia took at least three of those for period cramps. She couldn’t imagine how Hotch was functioning on just one with a fractured collarbone and forearm in a cast on a sling. Yawning for the fifth time in an hour, Garcia turned to Hotch. “Okay, sir. Usually, I stay awake with the team and just catch a quick catnap here in my office, but you can go home now. I’ll call you if there are any updates.”

In a daze from his deep dive into the paperwork, Hotch looked up slowly, blinking until his eyes focused on her. “I’m not going to leave you here by yourself, Garcia.”

She only shrugged, unbothered. “I’ve done it before, sir. No skin off my nose.” At the last minute, she managed to tamp down on the urge to tap her index finger to his nose. “Besides, you have Jack at home. You can go see him. That’s fine.”

Before she even finished speaking, Hotch was already shaking his head. “Jessica has already agreed to stay the night since I thought I would be going into the field for this case. And Jack understands what I do.” With his usual stubbornness, Hotch stated, “If you stay, I’ll stay.”

Thinking longingly of her shower and her cozy bed with its plush foam mattress topper, Garcia did not take the bait. “Suit yourself, sir, but I insist that you get some sleep. Doctor’s orders,” she interjected before he could argue, “And don’t make me call Reid to get some medical advice.”

“Reid only has Ph.Ds., Garcia, and as I recall, you were the one in school to be a surgeon at Caltech.” The corner of his mouth twitched to show he was teasing.

Pleased that he was relenting to her again, Garcia flushed and primped her hair. “Please. I mainly did it because it’s what my parents wanted. Well, that and I’ve always wanted to help people. But uh… I don’t do well with uh, you know how messy the human bodies are. Too much blood. Even the controlled bleeding was nauseating.” When she felt that her blush had cooled, she turned back to Hotch again. “It’s the same as you, sir. You became a lawyer because your dad was one, and it was expected of you, and you thought you could help people, even as a public defender, but it wasn’t enough to be there after the crimes were already committed.”

Hotch tilted his head at her. “Are you sure you don’t want to become a profiler, Garcia?”

She waved off his teasing. “No, no, I just picked up on a few things being around you all so much, though I don’t think I’ll ever be able to get the hang of your micro-expressions. Except during our poker nights as Rossi’s. You have a terrible tell.”

That actually pulled a chuckle from Hotch’s lips. “You’ll have to show me what it is some time. Maybe the next poker night.”

Garcia liked how that sounded. “Definitely, sir.” When she looked at him again, the way their eyes met felt so magnetic that it almost scared her. Quickly, she tried to push past the moment, but she felt like trying to do so was like slogging through quicksand. The more she fought it, the more she sunk into it.

That was why it took too long for her to look back at her monitors which showed nothing but her cute panda bear screen savers as she babbled, “Um. I sleep in my office, usually just in this chair and I use that chair to prop up my feet. But if you’re going to stay here and sleep, you can keep your chair. Or if you head to your office, you have your couch. I promise I’ll wake you up. You’ll only be a floor away instead of trying to race here from your home.”

“How do you sleep, Garcia?”

“Hm? Oh, I keep a few blankets in here. And I have plenty of little stuffed animals to snuggle.” Garcia gestured at the cute items she kept around her place, all of them infused with more utility than her visitors realized. They kept her sane when she dug through people’s messy lives. They were more than just idle knickknacks. “My home away from home. Do you need to borrow a blanket, sir? Or a little stuffie?”

Hotch leveled her with a look, and while she really only offered to be polite because she doubted that he would take her up on it, his answer surprised her. “I could use another blanket. I keep one in my go-bag, but I was thinking of using it as a pillow for the couch in my office.”

“Pretty clever, sir.” Garcia went to grab her blankets and showed them off to Hotch. “Now, I have zebra print with purple accents, cheetah print, or my favorite: pink with unicorns. All of these blankets are pretty thick since I have to keep my office cool.”

“Well, I’m not going to take your favorite blanket, Garcia. I’ll take the zebra one.” When he plucked it from her hands, he rubbed his thumb back and forth over the fabric appreciatively.

“Excellent choice! That one was Reid’s favorite, too.” In real time, she watched a strange look pass over Hotch’s face, similar to pain. “Don’t worry. I’ve washed it plenty of times since he last used it, sir.”

Again, Garcia had the chance to watch Hotch slip on a placidly neutral expression again before he looked up from the blanket at her. “Thank you, Garcia.”

“Oh,” Garcia sighed warmly, “You are welcome, sir.”

* * *

As it is, Garcia did have to go wake Hotch up at approximately four in the morning when another body was found at midnight. She decided to make the wake-up call easier by going in person and found Hotch carefully sleeping on his back, his long legs dangling over the end of his couch. He had somehow managed to change into a plain white T-shirt and a pair of dark gray sweatpants to sleep in, and she felt envious of his go-bag. It was a little funny to see her boss sleeping with her zebra print, purple accented blanket, but her handsome boss looked so…cute, when he was asleep, in a boyish kind of way.

Mindful of his fractured collarbone, Garcia settled for stroking her fingers through his hair when her whispers didn’t wake him. What she hadn’t accounted for was how his face – already looking so much younger in sleep – relaxed even further at her touch. He turned his head, pushing his forehead against your palm with a soft hum. “Oh, sir,” Garcia shook her head at him, regretful to wake him when he was clearly overworked and strung out already on top of his injuries. “Wake up.” Biting her lip, she tried again, “Aaron, wake up.”

His eyes snapped open with a sharp inhale. It took a moment, but when his eyes landed on her face, they softened, any traces of panic at suddenly being woken up fading the longer he looked at her. “Penelope,” his voice was rough with sleep, “What happened?”

“I’m sorry to have to wake you, sir, but another body has been discovered.”

She watched him shake off his sleep, everything about him getting harder and sharper as he shifted into profiler mode. “That’s sooner than expected. The unsub must be devolving, perhaps from increased police interference.” He started to sit up, but hissed between his teeth. “Uh, I’ll be there in a minute, Garcia.”

Looking him over, Garcia hovered anxiously. “Are you sure, sir? I can help.”

"Thank you, Garcia, but I can manage.” And he did climb to his feet until he was again towering over her, but he didn’t scare her. He was intimidating, yes, because he was stern and he was her boss. But Hotch had never been scary, not even the first time they met. He had always been kind. “I just need a minute alone to dress.”

“Oh,” Garcia blushed as she remembered. She never bothered changing into pajamas anymore for this very reason. The most she did was just yank off her sleep mask. “Of course, sir, but y’know, it’s just the two of us. If you want to be comfortable, I don’t mind.”

Hotch ducked his head, seemingly embarrassed. “Being in a suit would make me the most comfortable.”

Garcia smiled at him fondly. “Oh, I understand. Take your time. They still haven’t gotten the coroner’s report yet. If they have, I’ll just stall.”

And as she closed the door behind her, she could’ve sworn she heard him mutter, “Thank you, Penelope.”

* * *

For the next three days, they fell into this comfortable routine as they tried to solve this case. The whole time, Garcia watched Hotch choose to ignore his pain as he took less and less medication for it. She would never understand the self-inflicted torture that came with the stubbornness of toxic masculinity. More than that, though, she noticed more and more moments with Hotch happening. They were always small, innocuous, easily overlooked, but since Garcia was looking for the moments, they were impossible to not recognize.

Sometimes it would be him bringing her coffee, already perfectly made, somehow managing to balance carrying two with just one hand. Another time, Garcia watched Hotch take a quick power-nap after lunch, the zebra print, purple accented blanket spread over his body and tucked over his mouth, just under his nose. In his sleep, he rubbed his cheek against the fabric and sighed.

Then there was the way the mask he wore would slip and he would unintentionally show her how he really felt. It usually happened when she was flirting with Morgan. That was the only time she saw how annoyed Hotch got. Usually, she never got to see it since it was usually limited to phone calls instead of video calls, and Hotch would just choose to stay silent. But now that he was sitting right beside her, she could sense how rigid he got, how his lips would thin into a line of disapproval at her unprofessionalism. It bothered her, but she didn’t know how to fix it.

She had to wait until Hotch left to use the restroom before she called Morgan up to talk to him about it. “Hey, baby girl, tell me what I want to hear.”

“You’re gorgeous, but I need your big, beautiful profiler brain for a minute,” Garcia chattered, not wanting Hotch to come back too soon and overhear her.

“Does this have to do with the case?” Morgan questioned.

“Uh, no, it has to do with Hotch,” Garcia hedged, checking over her shoulder.

“Is he bothering you, baby girl? Because I know he can be uptight, but it’s only temporary.” Morgan’s serious tone bled away into teasing again as Garcia overhead Emily’s and JJ’s voices in the backgrounds. “You just let him know that that’s your office, okay? You’re in charge in your little liar. You’re the queen of your queen-dom.”

“Oh, no, that’s not the issue actually,” Garcia explained with such sincerity. “He’s been a perfect guest and I’ll be sad to see him go back on a case with you guys. I’ll actually be a little lonely without his company.”

Morgan sounded doubtful. “Are you trying to make me jealous, Mama?”

“It’s just, well, he’s different when it’s just the two of us. I don’t know how to explain it. I’m not a profiler. Oh, just pass the phone to Emily! I need a woman’s opinion on this.”

“He’s not been inappropriate with you, has he?” Morgan asked, sounding too much like a father. Garcia was right to ask for Emily.

“Hardy-har. Pass the phone to Emily!”

He did as she asked without a word, and Emily’s smooth voice rolled over Garcia’s frazzled nerves like a summer rain, soothing them over again. “What’s up, baby girl?”

“Emily, I think I have a crush!” Garcia squeaked, again looking back over her shoulder in a panic.

“So you finally figured that out, did you? I’m glad you had your epiphany.” Emily drawled, amusement infused into her voice though she didn’t quite laugh at her. “JJ, you owe me twenty bucks.”

“You took bets on this?” Garcia asked indignantly, her jaw dropping in shock.

“Just with JJ, don’t worry. Morgan is still in the dark.” Clearly not talking to Garcia anymore, Emily snapped, “None of your business! Anyway, Garcia, what seems to be the problem?”

“Besides the obvious?” Garcia asked, stuttering more from her current affronted nature than anything else. “What about the fact that he obviously doesn’t like me?”

“Oh, so I guess you haven’t realized the other part yet,” Emily sighed into the receiver. “JJ might win this bet after all.”

“Other part?” Garcia parroted, “What other part? Emily, what aren’t you telling me?”

“It isn’t my place to tell. Look, give us until the end of this case, and if nothing happens, I’ll tell you in person, okay? After at least five shots. Tequila shots, too, not whiskey.” Suddenly, there were lots of overlapping background noises on the phone, “Ah, shit. We’ll call you back, Garcia. Looks like Reid found something.” Then without waiting for goodbye, she hung up.

Sitting at her computers, Garcia never felt so lost. It was like her stomach was a small rowboat trying to stay afloat on the rolling, storming ocean in her body without capsizing. She was sure if she would just throw up, she’d probably be better, but she wasn’t going to do that when she had a very crumbly blueberry muffin. So instead, she sat there with her jaw clenched, desperately trying to calm down. It took Hotch’s voice behind her to do just that.

“Has anything new happened, Garcia?”

She caught the smell of the restroom hand soap still clinging to his person as he sat down. “I just got off the phone with Emily, but she had to hang up because something happened, so we’re on stand-by for now.”

Hotch sighed through his nose. “I don’t know how you can stand this, Garcia. So much waiting.”

“You have no idea. But the worst part has to be not knowing if my family will get hurt or not.” She pinned him to his chair with a look. “I was so upset when I heard about your injuries from last time, sir.”

“I’m sorry for causing you to worry about me, Garcia, but I can’t promise that I won’t get hurt again.”

“I know, sir. But I can’t promise you that I’ll never not worry about you.” Eyes widening, she corrected herself, “Any of you.”

Again, a look passed over Hotch’s face as quick as a cloud before it was gone. “Thank you, Garcia. You’re a good friend.”

That tightness was there in her chest again, but this time it felt like a lance through her heart. Still, she forced herself to smile as sunny as she always was. “You’re a good friend, too, sir.” And then there was no time to talk when Morgan called back.

* * *

Thanks to Reid’s geographical profile, the team did catch the unsub. As soon as they were back on the jet, Hotch went home so he could finally see his son. Besides, sleeping on the couch in his office wasn’t doing his injuries any favors either. Garcia wished she could’ve gone home, too, but she couldn’t bring herself to do that yet. She had to stay because she had to know what Emily and JJ weren’t telling her.

When they waltzed back into the office, Garcia was there in an instance to drag them back up to her office for privacy. “Come on, come on, Hotch went home. You have to tell me!”

“I thought we agreed on tequila shot firsts.”

“I didn’t agree to anything before you hung up on me! Now please, spill.”

Emily and JJ shared a look before JJ was the one who started talking. “Garcia, we don’t think your crush is unfounded.”

“That’s the wrong word,” Emily corrected her. “It’s should be one-sided.”

“You’re right. We don’t think your crush is one-sided. That’s what I meant to say.”

Looking back and forth between her two best friends, Garcia shook her head. “I don’t understand. How could you know that?”

When Emily shrugged, she managed to make the gesture look elegant. “Profiled him. JJ, too.”

"Yes, but how? What are his tells, his micro-expressions?”

"Remember how he looked at you when he was high on pain medication after the last case?” JJ reminded Garcia. “His eyes were soft, not flinty. His eyes are always just a little bit softer when he looks at you, especially when we’re not on a case.”

“It’s not just his eyes, but he softens his tone with you, too,” Emily pointed out. “And he remembers things about you, which is something he does for all of us, but then he actually does stuff for you. We think acts of service might be his love language, so it makes sense. He’s known you for longer than either of us. You know Jack, and you love Jack. You know everything worth knowing about him, so he can be himself with you. He can’t do that with just anyone. And he knows about your own past, too. There’s nothing you can hide from each other.”

The more and more Emily listed, the more and more Garcia felt like she was being stripped bare until it was like her heart was just lying on the table for them to poke at and prod with the tips of Cupid’s arrows. The tightness and lancing sensations were in full force. It was her final epiphany. “Oh my gosh,” Garcia realized all at once. “Oh my god.”

“Looks like she’s getting it now,” JJ muttered under her breath to Emily, but Garcia was ignoring them both now.

“I…he…we – what do I do now? Do I let him or should I? Do we do nothing?”

JJ made a face, but Emily just shook her head, her jet-black hair brushing over the tops of her shoulders. “I don’t you think either of you will go on just doing nothing about this anymore. And since he’s our boss, I don’t think he will ever be the one to make the first move since he doesn’t want to act inappropriately. He’s insecure. If you want this, you have to be the brave one.”

Garcia sounded so small when she spoke again. “I don’t know if I can be the brave one.”

Emily laid her hand on her shoulder. “Garcia, you’ve been the bravest of us for a very long time. I know you can do this, but only if you want to.”

“I do,” Garcia insisted, and then frowned when she realized she was telling the truth. “I do, so I will. Tomorrow.”

It wasn’t until after they all had left the office that JJ said what both her and Emily were thinking. “We’ll see when tomorrow gets here.”

* * *

But tomorrow never came. It seemed that without an active case, Hotch had stopped coming into the office, choosing instead to work from home. While Garcia was glad that he could rest comfortably, she couldn’t deny her disappointment, or muffle that same hurt panging her chest. He was avoiding her after everything. They didn’t even have a climatic kiss for him to run away from, yet Hotch was hiding himself away all the same. Emily was right; she would have to be the brave one.

So, if Hotch wouldn’t come to neutral grounds, (Could the office be considered neutral grounds? That was part of the problem anyway with the whole professionalism aspect), she would go to him. Garcia decided to go on a week day, taking an hour lunch where she stopped to pick up some sandwiches from the café Hotch went to when they spent time together on their last case. From home, she brought a Tupperware container of muffins, also as a peace treaty, more than a dozen for not only she and Hotch, but for Jack and Jessica. If his love language was acts of service, hers had to be gift giving. Maybe he could profile that out of her, if her words failed her. She could always show him that she loves him, too.

When she reached his home – a true home once he realized it would be safer than just anybody who could get into an apartment, and when he noticed that Jack needed a yard to practice his soccer – she gathered up all her courage and knocked on his front door. Garcia had the urge to hide out of view of the peep hole, but she wouldn’t allow herself to do that. She stared right at it, willing Hotch to let her in.

The door swung open to reveal Hotch dressed exactly how he would be for the office if the cast and sling didn’t impede his dress-shirt or suit jacket. “Garcia,” he greeted her neutrally, “is everything alright?” His penetrating gaze dropped down to the Tupperware container of muffins and the brown paper sack of sandwiches that she held between them like a sword and shield. “What’s all this?”

"Frankly, I’ve missed you, sir, so you’re going to let me in and we’re going to have lunch just like we used to.” Though Garcia weirded it like an order, she said it more like a question, a waver of hesitation in her tone.

Hotch’s brown eyes flickered back up to search her face before he held the door open wider for her and stepped aside. “Please come in,” he welcomed her, polite as he always was.

Once she stepped inside, he closed and locked the door behind her, and she didn’t question it. He had the reputation to back up his paranoia, and she was just as bad about it at her own apartment. For a moment, he just hovered with her at the door before he haltingly offered, “Do you have a preference for the kitchen or the living room? Or my office? I’ve just been working in there.”

“Wherever your comfortable, sir. This is your space,” she warped his words from before now, and she could see the instance Hotch recognized it.

"The living room is more comfortable, but I think Jack has picked up any of his toys.” Uncharacteristically, Hotch flushed his embarrassment. “Let’s eat in the kitchen.” He led her to it, and while his back was turned to her, he said, “I miss being back at work. It’s…lonely here. I can’t imagine how you do it.”

“I’m used to it by now, but it helps when I get to see you all when you get back. You’re my family. I love you all.”

Hotch let the conversation lull as Garcia spread out the sandwiches at the dining room table. While she did that, Hotch made them both a drink, both coffee, but just his home-brew. Without asking, he dumped honey and cream into hers and stirred it in one-handed.

“You sure have the hang of that even with one arm out of commission, sir,” Garcia pointed out, searching for a way to broach the topic.

“It’s…not my first time with an arm in a sling,” he explained. “I know I’m left-handed, but I learned to adapt where I could.”

“I’m lefthanded, too, but a keyboard uses both hands so I’m practically ambidextrous if I think about it.”

“I know,” Hotch said quietly, and then made a point of pulling out a chair for her to sit before he sat in his own.

For a moment, they sat in silence as they ate, neither wanting to speak with their mouthful. Even though Garcia knew she was the one who brought the heavy tension with her, she still felt that she could get used to this. She was comfortable with him.

Sitting in his kitchen, she looked around, taking notice of all of the pictures of Jack ranging from his infancy to now, some with Haley, some with Hotch, some with Jessica. There were a few pictures of just Haley and Hotch, and when she looked at them, all Garcia felt was sadness, but not jealousy. There were some letter and number magnets on the fridge holding up pictures Jack meticulously colored and then ripped out of a coloring book, and there was a report card. Hotch did not seem like a man with color in his life, but it was there. He did not seem like he was human, but he was deeply so.

When she turned her gaze back to him, taking note of how his injured wrist was so carefully cradled to his chest with the sling, she knew how he human he really was. While she was staring at him, Hotch looked up and met her eye evenly. He swallowed his bite of his turkey club sandwich before he prompted her, “What? Do I have something on my face?”

“No, sir,” Garcia shook her head, her blonde curls sliding over her shoulders. On a whim, she leaned forward, and Hotch did not move away as he watched her come closer. She pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth when she normally would just aim for his cheek, but she was making a point. Before she could sit back in her seat, Hotch turned, the tip of his nose brushing over her cheekbone as he caught her bottom lip for another, deeper kiss.

By the time Garcia was sitting down again, she was breathless, but at the same time, that tightness in her chest from before was gone. A weight was lifted. She could actually breathe, but at the same time, she never felt her heart go so fast. “Sir, Aaron,” she corrected herself quickly as she placed her hand in his. “We’re friends, but we don’t have to be just friends. I…like this a lot. I like you a lot.”

“Penelope,” Hotch smoothly broke it, “I know. I think I want to try this, too.”

She was smiling before he even finished his sentence. “Great, great, wonderful. My only request is that stuff like this?” Garcia waved her fingers at his right side. “Doesn’t happen. And I know you can’t promise, but you can try to take care of yourself a little better.”

Hotch sighed through his nose, but then he was smiling back at her anyway, his dimples etched deep in his cheeks. “Okay, Penny. I’ll try.” 


End file.
